


Loss

by samii_senpai



Series: Forgot to Remember series [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: I DON'T HAVE MUCH ELSE TO SAY ABOUT IT, I added some, M/M, Part 1, Spoilers, The Avengers: Infinity War, Thor is not, and sad, i am so mad, just like me, something short, thor is very sad, tony and steve are fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:33:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samii_senpai/pseuds/samii_senpai
Summary: Loki was everything Thor had left.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's really short. But, still, thank you and please enjoy.

When Loki drew his last, Thor could do naught but scream and watch.

The cold metal covering his lips muffled him. The sharp, unforgiving edges dug into his cheeks and drew blood, but he could not even feel the pain. It was eclipsed by a loss so great he scarcely knew anything else. Loki’s body hit the ground as Thanos released his throat and everything that Thor had left in all of the nine realms was lost.

Thor trembled.

Thanos laughed and fled with his prize as Thor was released from his bonds. He swore Thanos would die for what he had done.

For what he had taken from him.

His limbs shook with effort as he crawled forwards towards Loki’s lifeless form. His hand, shaking, reached out and gripped the one resting on Loki’s chest. Still and cold. He brought it to his lips and kissed it.

If his brother could see him now, he would probably mock him for being a sap. For showing weakness. Thinking of this, Thor smiled into Loki’s palm as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

Then, the ship exploded around him, and Loki’s cold fingers slipped out from between his own.

\----

The vacuum of space was only disrupted by a ship crashing into his body.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote more,  
> I might write even more,  
> but idk.
> 
> A poem by me
> 
> Thank you and please enjoy.

Thanos fled.

Thor had failed his quest despite driving the newly foraged axe—not even a day old—into the hard flesh of Thanos’ chest.

 _“You should have aimed for the head.”_ Thanos had taunted before snapping his fingers and dissolving half of the universe. The devastation was unfathomable. Everyone had lost someone, or, lost themselves.

It was all his fault. He should have aimed for the head.

Thor looked to the sky and cried out in anguish. There were no words to describe his torment.

He had failed. When the time had come, he had failed to kill the _thing_ that took everything from him, and, consequently, everyone else in this galaxy.

Thor fell to his knees clutching at his chest.

His grief was such, that it manifested itself as physical pain. His heart ached for his people and for his brother who he loved. What kind of god was he if he could not protect them?

Vaguely, through his pain, he could recognize that someone had placed a hand upon his shoulder. He looked to see Steve standing in solidarity with him. It was not an action of comfort, as much as it was one of shared grief. Steve Rogers had lost just as much in this fight as he had himself.

“Stand up.” Steve said. And so, Thor did.

“Rogers. I am—”

Steve held up a hand. “Don’t. This is as much your doing as it is mine.” _Not your fault._

Thor didn’t let himself believe him.

Steve Rogers turned to walk away, nothing left to say between them, but Thor caught his arm suddenly overcome with the need to _share_ even though the Captain would be one of the last people he could ever expect to care about his loss. Still, he tried.

“I—My… Loki is dead.”

Steve, who felt no love lost between himself and Thor’s late brother, looked back into the god’s eyes and saw his own sorrow and pain reflected there.

 _Oh._ He thought, unsure of how he could have missed this before.

Because there was nothing he could say to change anything, he only nodded, hoping that his understanding was conveyed.

Thor’s eyes flitted past his own to the last place Bucky had stood before meeting his again. He gave a nod in return and Steve was struck with a sense of comradery he had never before felt with the god. A consequence of what they had lived through.

Suddenly, a wail was heard from behind them. The warrior, Okoye, stumbled out of the tree line, crying out, lost in her grief.

“ _T’Challa_! _T’Challa_!”

Romanoff caught her as she began to fall to her knees. She clutched at the Black Widow and held on like she would fly off the earth otherwise. Romanoff held onto her all the same.

Thor looked around the grassy plain, at all of the faces of those who were left. He began to collect himself.

“We need to find who of us remains.”

Steve, who was transfixed on the sight of Okoye and Romanoff, nodded absently. “Yes. We do.”

\---

Counting the living was easier than counting the dead. Of those who fought with him only Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, the warrior, the rabbit and another man Thor scarcely knew called James Rhodes remained. Stark eventually returned to them as well, informing them that he was all that was left of those who were not on earth at the time of the Event.

None of them knew what to do next and none of them seemed particularly inclined to move on from their losses. Thor more so than any of them. Wracked with despair over Loki’s death and the added weight of having no more home to return to (‘Asgard was with the Asgardians’ but now all of them were dead), he became despondent and reclusive, hiding away in Stark’s tower and speaking to no one. Most of them let him be, each person absorbed in their own departed, but Steve Rogers was stubborn. He often came knocking at the god’s door, attempting to entice Thor out of his solitude.

Thor always refused.

But, Steve knew the god’s pain, he felt the same weight of grief and guilt at the loss of Bucky, and so he kept trying. Survivor’s guilt, they called it. But it seemed to mild a phrase for the torment—the hell—it really was. What could be worse than this? They were supposed to be heroes, but they could not even save the ones they cared for most.

After another failed attempt to pry Thor from his cage, Steve walked himself up to Tony’s bar where all the Avengers had all last sat together, drinking and making merry, before everything fell to pieces after Ultron. A pang of hurt resounded in him as he recalled it, the bittersweet edge of the memory slicing at his heart. He sat down on a stool and rubbed at his temples.

“Headache?”

Steve hadn’t even heard Tony come into the room. Warily, he turned to face the other man. They had not spoken since their fight. Even when Tony came back to earth bringing the grave news of the elusive Dr. Steven Strange and the _child_ Peter Parker’s deaths, he avoided Steve. “It’s been building, yeah.”

Tony nodded in understanding. “I’ve got something for that.”

He moved behind the bar and poured much more than a single serving of some expensive-looking scotch into a glass before sliding it over to Steve.

The Captain looked incredulously at the liquid.

“You do know I can’t get drunk, right?”

Tony shrugged a waved his hand absently through the air as if physically brushing away his words. “Maybe not, but a healthy helping of this stuff might take the edge off.”

Placated but still warry, Steve shrugged and downed the whole thing in one go before slamming the heavy glass back down against the bar. Tony poured one for himself.

“Listen, Rogers…” Stark began. “I know I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but I…I heard about Bucky.” He paused, probably giving the Captain time to interject something, before downing the rest of his own scotch and continuing. “Steve. I’m really sorry. There is nothing I can say, but…I’m really sorry.”

Steve gazed into his empty glass and sighed.

“I think I’m gonna need another.” He said.

“I can do that.” Tony replied, refilling the Captain’s glass with the bottle still clutched in his hand. Referencing it, he continued. “You know, we should probably just drink straight from this.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

Their conversation lulled, but the silence following was more comfortable than either had felt around the other in a long time. Neither man seemed particularly motivated to say anything more until Tony asked: “How’s Thor?”

Steve stayed silent for a moment longer and pondered the question. It was one that had been eating away at him since Thor, son of Odin, god of thunder, looked at him with the wide, terrified eyes of a helpless child and told him that his brother was gone.

Steve knew loss. He knew the way it felt, the way the barbed tendrils of it curled and twisted around your lungs and your heart, squeezing, suffocating, until every breath was agony. He knew the way it smelled, of rot and ruin and the way the awful stench clung to you like a curse, staining everything you touched. He knew the way it tasted, like iron, like blood stuck behind your teeth, like an incomprehensibly bitter drug. He _knows_. And he thought knew better than anyone.

But then he thinks of Thor.

Thor the god who was a man long before he was even a child. Thor who had lived and fought thousands of lifetimes beside his brother, his father, his people. Thor who was ten times stronger than Steve, yet still knew ten times the loss Steve knew himself. What must his torment be?

“He’s…” He didn’t know what to say.

“Not good?” Tony supplied.

“Putting it mildly.” Steve took another drink.

“Well, I assumed as much, seeing as he barred himself in.” Tony poured the Captain another drink. Steve hadn’t even realized he had finished the one before.

Steve contemplated what he was about to say for a moment before going ahead and saying it anyway.

“His brother is dead.”

Tony watched him carefully for a moment before turning back to his drink and saying, “Don’t we hate that guy?”

“We do. He doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t?” Tony asked, confused. “Didn’t Thor try to kill him right alongside us?”

“For Thor, it was never about _killing_ Loki.” Steve said. “Loki was probably more important to Thor than I think any of us could possibly imagine.”

Tony hummed. “You think?”

The Captain thought back to the wide-eyed hopelessness in Thor’s gaze.

“I know.”

\---

Thor barely even registered the passing of time.

Every waking second, he imagined all the fantastical ways he could bring Loki back. Every moment spent in sleep, he had nightmares of his death.

He knew that sometimes, in randomly spaced intervals, Steve would knock at his door (he knew it was Steve because he couldn’t think of any of the others that would care enough to try). He also knew that it had been, at least, weeks since his last meal and, despite being a god, if he did not do something about it soon, he would die.

And he knew a terrifying part of him was okay with that.

Lastly, he knew, no matter the cost, he was going to bring his brother back.


End file.
